"Harsh mistress indeed..." he trails off into a wimpy chuckle. Struggling to his feat: "Anyone have something cold, or a real bandage?" He sits on a stool: "Overly alcoholic items need...need not apply...."

The port. We've got to convince the harbormaster to let a ship in. There's something in it for everyone who helps, and we may just get to beat the piss out of a harbormaster!. If he won't, then we go to the emporer. I don't care, I'm not letting her rot out there.
he looks around
good plan?

"With enough money...oh Jesus my head...wow...ok...With enough money you could get him to re-open the port, by the messenger-ships have all already gone out, likely. So al the ships are already divereted to the north."

He gets up and lays down on the floor.

"I...um...wow...I can accompany you if you want after I fix that table......and get this fucking welt on my neck taken care of..."

" I can help get a ship out of this port," says the monk "And provide better means than violence. I can also help with that unfortunalte welt."

"I'd like to avoid the whole....ship thing if I could, considering my...recent experience with them...but if you two insist, I suppose I'll come along. But...give me some time, like 12 hours or something."

(Edit: I just now realized how much I'm swearing. If that bothers anyone, I'll stop. As it is, I'm going to try to tone it down a bit.)

ooc: I didn't even notice I wonder what that says about me? he he

(Well, it means you're a son of a... person!. Heh. Moving on!)

"Aye, let us go to the docks!" The drunk said with a great upward gesture. "We shall be pirates once more upon the high seas after we beat the poor harbormaster senseless and take every last drop of stinkin' gold he owns!"

"Are you all drunk or something?" She said putting a whisky bottle back. "A ship, eh?" She leans close to the men talking of a ship. "Listen, I'd do anything to get out of the rats nest. Let me come with you on the ship and i'd cook and clean."

"Pirates?" Kane hobbles up off of the ground and stares Rhuhael in the eyes. "Pirates? Again?" Suddenly, as though he had never been hit on the back of the neck by a hammer and tripped over a stool, he quickly puts a hand on the hilt of his suprisingly long rapier and draws an inch. "I do so pray that you made a poor choice of words."